


In Sickness and in Health

by spiritdragon6



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cat, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Love, Protective Bucky Barnes, although a little painful, and the cat is amazing, but love!, lots of feels, love is nice, the cats nickname is awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritdragon6/pseuds/spiritdragon6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has been seeing the reader hanging out in Central Park on his weekend run with Steve. Things are going well from there, but the reader has an illness that makes them have to wait for an organ donor, which never comes. Bucky doesn’t know about this until the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and in Health

**Author's Note:**

  * For [m_ryuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_ryuu/gifts).



> I'm so sorry this is taking so long! I'm going to make this into a longer story rather than a oneshot. I really like this prompt because the reader is more 'normal' and is trying to fit into the weird world of the Avengers and aliens and stuff. So thank you for this prompt!
> 
> I don't know when I'll update next, but I shall do my best to soon for you! I'm super busy over the next 4/5 weeks, but I will do my best to get this updated for you all (because I love you guys). Hope you guys like it!

“I keep seeing you sat here.”

You look up through your eyelashes to see a tall, dark-haired male looking down at you. You squint at him, recognising his face. _Ah, he’s one of the weekend joggers._ To the side of the man, a little way back, is the other guy he always runs with. You glance back up at the man and give him a small, albeit a confused, smile. _Yes, I sit here quite often. Why, am I offending your senses?_

“Uh, hi?” You sit up a little straighter from your slouched position, leaning against the back of the park bench. “Can I help you with something?” He shrugs.

“I just wondered why I keep seeing you sat here.” The man’s voice sounds friendly but tightly laced with suspicion. If his tone didn’t suggest that you were doing something wrong, your changing body language might be a little less hostile. You open your mouth to snark a reply but it just ends up shutting when you’re unsure how to respond. _“Why are you sat here?” Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because my doctor recommended getting outside, jerk. What d’you want me to do, move?_

You’ve not been sleeping well and you haven’t eaten yet this morning. It’s safe to say that you’re a little grouchy, but you just can’t make yourself eat or lie down. You know it’s not good for your health, but you honestly can’t bring yourself to care today. You sigh a little frustratedly. “I don’t know how to answer that.” The male frowns and opens his mouth, but his friend interrupts.

“Come on, just leave her alone. She’s not doing anything wrong.” He stands there, staring at you still with a steely gaze. You raise an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. He narrows his eyes at you before finally turning around and continuing his jog with his friend. You slump back against the bench.

“Jerk,” you mutter, plugging in your headphones and playing some beats to ease your sour mood.

You don't know why, but you get this strange feeling that tells you that you're being followed. You shake it off and head home, not rushing to get back.

* * *

You dislike it when it rains, it’s so inconvenient. Still, you shut your eyes and pull yourself together. Your doctor said it would be a good idea to get out as much as you can to get some fresh air. So you don a fleecy jumper, some boots and your raincoat and exit your apartment. _It’s summer,_ you think bitterly as a cold wind blows rain into your face. _The weather could at least commit to being warm._

With a sigh, you walk at your usual pace to reach the edge of Central Park at W 57th Street. Your hands get cold fairly quickly, so you ball them up tightly in your coat pockets. _Dammit, I should have brought gloves._ You start to warm up the longer you walk, but the weather does nothing to brighten up your day. “Pathetic fallacy at it’s finest,” you mutter to yourself.

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes to reach your normal park bench. You stand next to it, staring forlornly at the soaking surface of the seat as rainwater bounces off of it. You shut your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. _Whelp, my trousers are wet anyway, might as well take a seat._ So you do, immediately feeling the freezing water soaking any dry patches on your trousers. You shuffle and pull your knees up, hugging them as you huddle on the bench.

It’s probably not the best idea to sit in the rain; you’ll probably get ill, which, to say the least, won’t do you any good. You’re just tired, though. You don’t have the energy to look after yourself right now. You close your eyes and rest your face against your cold trousers. Sitting there for a long time numbs you a bit. You’re shivering with your teeth chattering, but you're still determined to at least stay out for an hour in total.

“You don’t look particularly warm.” You hum in question and look up at the voice. Your interested expression sags when you realise it’s that guy again. The running one.

“What do you want?” You bite out. He raises his hands in surrender.

“Hey ma’am. I’m afraid that we got off on the wrong foot last time. It’s just…” You look up at him again as his voice trails off. “You look a little cold. I don’t want you to catch an illness or anything.” You snort.

“Like you care. Plus you’re one to talk, Mr Running-in-the-Rain.” He smirks a little at this, but offers you a hand to help you off of the bench. You narrow your eyes sceptically at his outstretched palm. Ignoring it, you get up to walk away.

“Hey,” he says softly. You stop to look at him. “At least let me walk you home.” At first, you feel offended. _I’m old enough to walk home safely, thanks._ But the man continues before you can give a haughty reply. “I just want to make sure that you’re doing okay. Don’t want you to catch a cold or anything.” He sounds too sincere and it feels a little odd. You don’t particularly want to walk with this man, but you give in, too tired to argue. You jerk your head in the direction you’re heading and he gives you a little smile and steps to walk beside you.

“No running buddy today?” You say conversationally. The man chuckles, shaking his head.

“Nah, he didn’t facing getting soaked. I wanted to go out, though. It feels good to burn off some steam.” You hum, looking down to watch your boots stepping in the puddles of water. _Must be nice to be able to run,_ you think sadly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” your nose twitches. You know what he’s going to ask. “But you seem to sit on that bench whenever I see you, no matter what the weather.” You see his hand raise to brush his soaking mop of hair out of his face, his mouth opening to continue. You interrupt.

“You’re wondering why I always sit there.” It’s a statement, but he nods anyway. You sigh. “Fresh air does me good.” You leave it at that, not wanting to say more. He takes the hint and doesn’t ask any more about it.

He walks you to the road that you live down and you stop. “I can get the rest of the way, it’s just down there,” you make a vague gesture down the road. The male nods, saying nothing. “Thanks for the company,” you say, not entirely lying. He smiles gently at you.

“See you around.” You nod and suddenly he’s off and running again. You frown and watch him disappear around a corner. Shaking your head, you turn and walk back to your apartment. You’re not entirely sure about the motives of the man, but he seems all right despite how you first met. You rub your head and change your thoughts, thinking about the nice warm shower you’re going to have when you get home.

* * *

Funnily enough,  _(not),_ you see the man and his friend out and running again the following weekend on Saturday morning. The dark haired lad gives you a small smile and his friend inclines his head to acknowledge you. You watch them jog by, squinting after them as the sun blinds you.  _Is it me, or do they run awfully fast?_ You rub your head.  _It's probably just me._

You see them again on Sunday morning as they enter the park, and again as they finish their route and jog by. This time he grins at you. You think he winks too. You scoff and roll your eyes, but you smile at him as he runs by.

This continues for about a month before he approaches you again, making a gesture to his friend to continue running without him. You watch as he approaches and he sits next to you on the bench.

“So…” he speaks, clearing his throat. “You look a bit happier than when we last spoke.” You snort.

“Better weather will do that to ya,” you gesture at the sun shining through the trees, smiling at the dapples on the ground formed by the shadows. “Hows things with you? You seem particularly chirpy, running along at the weekends.”

“Chirpy?” The man mumbles with a small frown. You smile, amused at his thoughtful expression. He notices you watching him and cracks a lopsided grin. Then he sits back, leaning against the bench and tilting his face up to the sun, his arms stretching along the top of the bench. “I see why you like it here,” he says conversationally. You hum in response, checking your phone for the time. _I need to go soon, or I'll be late for work._ You stand and the male blinks up at you, squinting from the light shining in his eyes.

“Well, I've got to go or I'll be late to work. See you around.” You're just taking your first step to leave when he calls out to you.

“Wait!” He says suddenly. You turn and give him a puzzled look. “Would you…” he rubs the back of his neck and smiles a little sheepishly. For a moment you wonder if he wants to walk you back home again, but it turns out that he wants something different. “I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a drink some time? With me, I mean.” You blink in surprise. You're momentarily stunned by his sudden request and then the man goes and dazzles you with a lovely smile which disarms you. _Dammit._

“But I barely know you.” You say weakly. The male stands and your eyes follow him up. _Good God he's one tall, handsome, hench looking bastard._

“You don't have to decide right away,” he says quickly. “Maybe if I walk you home and we talk you can decide if you want to or not?” You would be frustrated at his persistence, but he _asks_ you rather than demands. You deflate. _I'm too tired for this shit._

“Sure,” you say nonchalantly, and you can see his face lighting up a bit at that. You suppress a responding smile and start walking. He joins you at your side, falling into step with you. For the first few minutes you both walk in silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable.

“So…” he starts. His speech trails off as he struggles to find what words to say. You take pity on him and decide to help him out.

“Do you have any pets?” He blinks at you in surprise, then chuckles at the topic.

“No. No, I don't. Do you?” You smile gently.

“Yeah, I have a rescue cat. He's called James.” The man laughs in surprise. You look up at him. “What's so funny, Mr Running-Man?” He looks at you with a grin.

“That's my name. James, I mean. My name is James.” You chuckle too.

“No way! Coincidence! Nice to finally meet you, James.” You hum thoughtfully. “At least it'll be easier for me to remember your name, I'm awful with names.” You think his smile falters a little at that and you’re not sure if you’ve said something wrong. Before you know it, though, he's got that dazzling smile on his face again. _Keep looking at me like that mister and I'll blush._

“Yeah I guess. What's your name?”

“Y/N,” you reply swiftly, shielding your eyes from the sunlight streaming into your face as you cross the road.

“Oh,” he says in surprise. “That's a great name.” You look at him, confused at the genuineness of his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him as he turns to look at you. He gestures to you with his hand. “It suits you.”

“Thanks?” He chuckles and you do too.

“At least now I know what to call you. Y/N sounds a lot better than 'Cute-Looking-Bench-Lady’, don't you think?” You bark a laugh.

“I don't know about that; I think Cute-Looking-Bench-Lady had a neat ring to it.” He snorts. There's a few peaceful minutes where you walk together in a companionable silence, then James speaks up again.

“So what do you think?” You hum at him as a cue to continue. “Am I growing on you?” You smile up at him.

“Maybe just a little.” He flashes you that gorgeous grin again and you get an odd fluttery feeling in your chest.

“Enough to let me buy you a drink?” You grasp your chin with your hand and put on your best thinking face. You give him a thoughtful look and he chuckles.

“Hmm.” He sticks his lip out in a pout and flashes you puppy eyes. You laugh. “I'm getting there. You're a good convincer, Mr James.”

James walks you all the way up to where your apartment is, and this time you don’t mind that he does. You stop at the entrance to the building and turn to look at him. He looks down at you with hopeful eyes. “So, what do ya say? Like me enough for me to take you out some place?” You roll your eyes, but smile.

“Fine, you win.” He does a small fist pump in victory and you laugh. “When were you thinking?” He scratches the back of his neck again, a nervous tick you’ve noticed he has.

“Do you work on Sundays? Maybe tomorrow?” He sounds almost shy, and it’s kind of cute. You think for a moment; _my workplace lets me off on Sunday’s, so I’ll be free_. You nod in confirmation. “Great! I’ll meet you at the park bench in the morning? Around the usual time.” You flash a grin.

“Sounds like a date, Mr James.” He bows at you dramatically.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Y/N.” When he smiles at you this time, you notice the way his eyes crinkle and dimples form on his cheeks. He starts walking backwards and turns to go back the way you walked with him. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Bye,” you call after him as he starts to jog off and he waves a hand in the air to acknowledge your words. As you walk into your apartment you can’t help but think that things have been so down lately. _It’s about damn time I got some happiness._

* * *

The following morning you surprise yourself by being a little nervous. You flick through your wardrobe for at least thirty minutes, not quite knowing what to wear. You know you don’t need to dress to impress… _Nevertheless, though, it wouldn’t hurt to jazz things up a bit, right? Right._ _But I don’t need to go too over the top either._ You rub your head. _I’m thinking about this way too much._

You don’t have a wide variety of clothing; you can’t afford it right now with your treatments at hospital and not being able to work so much. Still, you don’t own anything awful; your immaculate taste remains in tact. Finally deciding to go for comfortable but stylish clothes, you get ready and put some food out for your cat. Jam (your nickname for him) is curled up at the end of your bed, the tufts of fur from his tail curled over his nose. You smile fondly at his sleeping form before heading out, locking the door behind you.

Today you walk with a bit of a spring in your step. You don’t know James very well, but he seems quite nice. You have to remind yourself that it’s okay to be excited. It’s been so long since you’ve dated anyone so you’re mentally praying that your charming personality is still there somewhere, buried under all of the tiredness.

You’re the first to arrive at the bench. There’s the usual Sunday joggers out this morning that wave at you as they pass. You whip your phone out and check the time. _Ten minutes early._ About eight minutes pass and you start to wonder if James is going out on his Sunday run before he meets you. _Usually I see him enter the park first, so maybe not._ Busy with your thoughts, you don’t notice the man in question approaching. He slides up next to you on the bench.

“What’s a beautiful dame like you doing sitting out here all by yourself?” You jolt in surprise and turn your head to see him. You clutch your chest, painfully aware of your heart beating faster from surprise.

“God, you made me jump.” He bites his lip and winces. He goes to apologise, but you wave him off and stand up. He joins you standing. “So… are we going to anywhere specific, or are we seeing where the path takes us?” He shrugs.

“I don’t have anywhere specific in mind. To be honest,” he rubs the back of his neck again, “I don’t really get out much, so I don’t know where the best places are. Any recommendations?”

“Let’s just see where our feet take us,” you say. James nods and you start walking. The sky is a little cloudy, you notice, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain… yet, anyway.

You walk together, chatting, laughing,  and smiling for a while, eventually coming across a café that suits you both. The pair of you get hot chocolates and sit by the window. You notice for the first time that James has a glove over his left hand. You don’t comment on it, but store away the information somewhere to pull out for later. You take a sip of your hot chocolate and whistle in appreciation. At James’ lifted eyebrow, you explain.

“I always drink water and rarely have anything else. This is nice for a change.” He nods and smiles, watching you as you gaze out of the window. You’re trying to be as healthy as possible to help with your condition. It’s probably a lost cause, but you’re doing everything you can to try and make yourself better. You sip your drink and look up at James. He’s still watching you. You lick your lips, thinking he’s probably staring at you because you have cream on your face. You find that there’s none, so you tilt your head at him. “Something on my face?” He jerks like he’s been startled out of a daydream.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about how beautiful you look.” You look down at the warm mug cradled in your hands, embarrassed at his words. A flush starts to creep up your neck.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling.

“I mean it,” he insists. “I’m not just saying it.” You look up at him and he smiles gently at the blush on your cheeks. You jut your chin out and look him in the eyes, determined not to hide your face.

“Well then, James. I suppose I should tell that I’ve been thinking about how handsome you look.” He chuckles and leans forward.

“Oh? Tell me more.” This only makes you blush harder. _Dammit, now I have to praise him. I suck at compliments._

“Well,” you drawl, attempting to sound casual. “You’re tall and, let's face it, you’re pretty hench.” He snorts in amusement and you continue. “Your dark hair looks nice when you go running, all tied up with wisps blowing down by your cheeks. It looks great down, like now. Frames your face well.” You tilt your head up in thought, then your eyes slide down to meet his. “Your eyes are a really nice colour too.” You look back down at your hot chocolate, unable to hold his intense gaze. “So… yeah.”

“Wow, okay. I’ll admit I wasn’t actually expecting you to… yeah. Thanks.” He lifts him mug and takes a sip. “I guess it’s my turn then. I mean, I can’t take _all_ of the compliments and not give some back to you.” You glance up to see him licking his lips and curling a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re confident and you hold yourself well; you don’t take bullshit which is fantastic. I really like the shade of your eyes…” his eyes catch yours and he’s quiet for a moment, his mouth still open as his sentence trails off. Then he shakes his head to continue. “Your voice is really soothing to listen to. I really like your laughter.” He clears his throat as if he’s embarrassed to admit all of this. “You’re really refreshing to be around; your presence is relaxing which is a nice change to the environment I live in.” He bites his lip, not meeting your eyes. You laugh softly.

“That’s the most appreciation I’ve been given in years! Thanks.” James smiles. His cheeks have a dusty shade of pink on them, telling you that he’s as embarrassed as you. You both must look like a right pair to anyone else in the café, blushing and avoiding each others gazes.

The silence that settles is a bit too awkward afterwards, but you bear it out by drinking your hot chocolate whilst thoughts about how nice he is and what to talk about next dart around in your mind. You lean over to the window and press your face against it, craning your neck to look around the canopy outside. You just about manage to see a sliver of the sky.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” you mumble. James leans over too and looks outside, humming in agreement. You finish your hot chocolate and glance at James’ cup to see that he’s finished too. “Ready to head out?” He looks up at you and smiles gently.

“Sure, okay.” You both stand and James gestures for you to lead the way out. You smile and weave between the tables and head for the exit, James at your side. Rather than going your separate ways, the pair of you head back to Central Park and walk around for the rest of the morning. You enjoy your time with him; the man has a certain charm about him that makes you feel positively giddy, not to mention the most beautiful laugh you’ve ever heard. _Wow, it’s been one date and I’m practically already smitten._

As it gets closer to lunch time, though, you’re aware that you have to go back to check on your cat. Jam is usually good by himself for a long time, but he’s coming down from having the cat flu so you’re anxious to check that he’s doing okay.

“I gotta head back soon to check on James.” James’ head jerks to look at you with a puzzled expression before he realises.

“Oh, you mean your cat.” He laughs when you nod. “I got confused for a second there.” You grin at him and he gives you a grin back. When you both turn to head back to where your apartment is, neither of you rush, wanting to enjoy each other’s company for a little while longer. You feel a little disappointed when you reach the entrance of the building.

“Thanks,” you say, meaning it. “I enjoyed my time out with you.”

“Me too,” James clears his throat. “Maybe we can do it again some time?” You smile and nod.

“Sure.” Looking up at the grey sky, you say, “You should probably head back home before you get soaked.” He glances up and agrees.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, turning to head off. “Thanks for going out with me today.” You both share a final smile before he’s off back home. You stand there watching him go until you can no longer see him. Then, shaking your head with a smitten smile, you head up to your rented apartment to check on your cat.

* * *

It becomes routine over the next few months for James to wave at you as he jogs by on Saturdays and to sit with you and chat when his runs is finished on Sundays. Every other Sunday, James offers to take you out for a drink and you readily agree to it. No matter what the weather, the two of you always seem to enjoy yourselves. One Sunday you wake up, perky that you'll be seeing him and probably going out for a drink too, but you don't feel so good today. You feel a bit dizzy this morning. Once you're dressed, you're out of breath and have to lie back down again. _Christ, what's going on with me now?_ You wait for a while and the feeling doesn't seem to go. _I should probably go see a doctor. Please don't let it be what I think it is. Please._ You call your boss and tell her that you're not feeling right today and probably won't be able to go in tomorrow. She understands and tells you to take the next week off. _That should feel like a relief, but it's really, really not._

You lay there for a while before getting up and feeding your cat. The activity exhausts you and you have to pause again to get your breath back. Moving again, you manage to stomach some food, but not enough to sustain you. You can't make yourself eat more, though. _Maybe fresh air will help._

You take it slow. It takes roughly double the time it usually takes to get to the entrance of the apartment complex. You pause again before pushing yourself to walk the normal route to the park.

You barely make it to the end of the road before you collapse.

* * *

You wake up in hospital to the steady beep of a heart monitor. You feel so numb and cold. Rubbing your face, you try to both wake yourself up and get the feeling back into your face. You take a deep breath, knowing the exact reason you're in here but not wanting to believe it's true. It's your heart again. You watch the jagged lines forming on the heart monitor, your chin wobbling and tears forming in your eyes. _Please._ The lines of the monitor blur as tears cloud your vision. _Please don't-_ a sob resounds in the room, the sound of pain, sorrow and anguish. A cry follows it, a sound of grief. It takes you a moment to fully register that the sound is coming from you.

You think of all the people you're going to disappoint, all of the people you're going to let down. All because you're messed up and dying. Your mother will tell you that she was right all along. She'll laugh at you scornfully and your brother would probably join in. Your dad and sister will look at you sadly, disappointedly. You were always the family disappointment, but maybe the reason why is because you were the only one in your family to achieve some kind of financial success… until you got ill and your bank savings took a hit. It became lighter and lighter from all of the medical care you needed to actually survive.

Your work friends will be upset about you not being around; that, and they'll have an extra workload and no extra pay.

And your cat, _oh God James._ You can't leave him alone in the apartment, you need to check on him. The poor rescue cat has abandonment issues on top of its other problems. Sometimes you forget that he's still a rescue cat. You should be back at home with him to reassure him he's okay. The tears finally spill over your cheeks as you wonder how long you've already been in hospital. _The poor cat can't take care of itself, God dammit why am I so selfish?!_ The doctor knocks on the door frame and enters, a clipboard in hand.

You screw your eyes shut and turn your head away from him. When you brave a look at him, you see the man pushes his glasses up and you know already that the news is bad and you don't _want_ to hear him say those words that confirm your thoughts, you just want to be home curled up with your cat and reading in bed, or sitting on a bench with James laughing and chatting playfully. You clench your eyes shut.

_Oh God and James is probably wondering why I wasn't there at the park today, I've disappointed him too and now the doctor's here and he'll be-_

“I'm so sorry, Y/N.” A sob rips through your throat and your shoulders shudder as tears spill through your closed eyelids. The hot tears quickly turn ice cold as they form rivers down your cheeks, wetting the hospital pillow. “Do you have any family that should be here with you?” This makes you cry out more. You shake your head reverently, wiping your eyes with your hands, feeling the scrape of the weird clippings attached to your fingers tickle your cheeks.

There are some footsteps and a creak and you open your eyes to see the doctor taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs. He leans forward, resting the clipboard on his knees. “Before I continue, I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone to talk to, you're allowed to come and find me. It's tough, what you're going through, and I can't imagine what it's like going through this alone.” He clears his throat a little awkwardly.

You take a shuddering breath. You know what he's going to say. You know it and _dammit_ you don't want to hear it. You just want to sleep and never wake up. You breathe out a harsh puff of air through your teeth, steeling yourself for the indefinite news.

“You've been diagnosed with heart failure. We think that it most likely started due to you getting Myocarditis. We'll see how you are over time and make an assessment on whether or not you should get a transplant. Remember we're here if you need any support.” You nod, more silent tears running over your face. The doctor says a few more words in condolence which you barely register over the blood roaring in your ears.

Once he's left, you're alone again. Being alone is the last thing you want right now, but you haven't got anyone else besides your cat and yourself.

You curl up on your side and silently cry yourself to sleep.

* * *

A week and a half passes by in a blur. By the time you're discharged you're tired and depressed and at a loss of what to do.

Feeling resigned, you unlock your apartment door and push it open. There's a loud meow and suddenly you're crouched on the floor, burying your nose in James’ fur. You gently push the door shut behind you and let yourself sit down against the wall, the cat curling up on your lap, headbutting your hand every now and then. You sigh and look down at him sadly. You'll have to thank your neighbour for popping around everyday to feed him. You scratch the fur behind his crooked ear and listen to his contented purr. _I'm going to miss this._ You're not entirely sure why you're so melancholy all of a sudden, but each time you look at something you wonder when will be the last time that you see it.

You sit there till your legs are numb. You sigh, dropping your heads back against the wall with a thud. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and pull yourself together. Then, you get up. The cat protests and the deranged sound it makes makes you chuckle. You get some food and put it out for him. _Yeah I don't see you complaining now you've got food._ You smile fondly before heading off to your room and collapsing onto the bed with a mellow huff.

You cat curls up next to you and you lay there, exhaustion taking you over as you slip into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next few days feel as if they drag on and on and on. Things are slow and it almost feels like your world has come to a standstill. You sit next to a window, watching the street life beneath you whilst thinking about nothing. You want to _do_ something. What that something is, you’re not sure. Nothing appeals to you; nothing comes to mind. You sigh, watching the window steam up with your breath. Deciding to gather more air and blow it onto the window, you doodle using your index finger. You draw a smiley face and stare at it, hoping that it’ll cheer you up. When nothing exciting happens, you huff and get up to go and make yourself some lunch.

When it comes to Saturday, you’re so emotionally tired that you’re starting to wonder what the point of life is. _Somehow_ , you manage to haul yourself out of bed and feed the cat. You don’t feel like making breakfast, though, so you decide to go out and get some for a change. Like the last few days, today you’re feeling a bit fragile. Little things are making you tear up and you’re becoming easily frustrated. Trying not to think too much about it, you grab some money and head out, calling a goodbye out to your cat.

The sky is cloudy, no sun can be seen. _How cliché,_ you think. _But then again, this is New York City._ You pop into a shop and buy some fruit and a bottle of water to drink as you walk to the park. You’re later than usual out this morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care all that much. When you’re finished with your fruit, you toss any scraps into the nearby bin on the bench at Central Park and slump down onto the seat. You take a few deep breaths; your chest aches and your limbs feel weak from your time in hospital and lack of movement. Twisting the cap off of the bottle, you take a swig or two and swallow down the water. Then you hold the bottle between your hands and roll it, thinking about your predicament. _Heart failure, huh? What a way to go._

Tears well up in your eyes and you try to blink them away, but they don’t seem to go. _Why is life so hard?_

A gloved hand timidly touches your shoulder. Your head snaps up and your eyes meet blue-grey ones. Your mouth opens but your throat closes up. Unable to get words out, your tears eventually spill over onto your cheeks and you drop your head back down, unable to look at James’ form crouched in front of you. You clench your eyes shut. _Dammit, I should have just stayed at home._ There’s a sigh and James sits on the bench next to you, placing his arm around your shoulders. The restraints on your emotions snap, then.

You hiccup a sob, dropping the bottle between your hands and curling in on yourself, your hands buried in your hair, your face hidden in the crook of your elbows. _I have heart failure. Fuck, I’m going to die from heart failure and I don’t know when._ James says nothing, just rubs his hand over your back comfortingly. Seeking comfort, you wipe your face and sit more upright, shuffling closer to James’ form. He pulls you in and you bury your face into his shirt, hooking your legs over his. He kisses the top of your head and holds you gently, but firmly.

Rain starts to spit after a while and that’s when James speaks up.

“We should probably go somewhere with shelter before the rain starts pouring.” You’re no longer crying, but you just don’t feel like moving. Your eyes feel worn out and you sigh wearily, wiping the drying tears from your face. _I just want to sleep and never wake up._ When you don’t say anything or move further, James rubs your back again. “C’mon, I’d hate for you to get ill because of the rain.” _Buddy if you think the rain will make me worse, you’ve got another thing coming._ Finally, though, you nod your head and peel yourself from his frame, standing up. As James stands too, you pick up the bottle you dropped and pop it in the bin. When you turn, James is there. “Do you want me to walk you back home?”

“Yes please,” you say, wincing at your hoarse voice. He gives you a soft smile and beckons you over, placing his arm back around your shoulders as he falls into step with you.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” He says. You know what he means; he’s asking if you want to talk about what’s bothering you. _I’ve got heart failure._ The news hasn’t actually fully hit you yet. You glance up at James. _I’m dying._ So you shake your head, unable to bring yourself to tell him what’s wrong with you. Thankfully, he doesn’t press. “That’s fine,” he says, and he means it. “Y’know,” he says lightly, tilting his head up to see if it will rain heavier. “I was worried when you didn’t show up at the park. I know you _always_ show up at the park. And when you didn’t show up the following week either… I… kind of panicked.” You frown up at him and he flashes you a sheepish smile. “I went back to where your apartment is and asked around.” You tense a little, but if he notices, he says nothing. “Most people said they hadn’t seen you come out of your apartment, others said you’d left and not returned. I knocked on your door and didn’t get a response, so I left with the hope that you were okay and would show up at the park again this week.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Thankfully you did.”

Deep down you feel a little touched knowing that someone cares enough to check that you’re okay. You lift an arm and cautiously place it around his hips. He looks down at you, giving you one of those gorgeous smiles. You smile back a little weakly, but your voice is strong as you say, “Thank you.” He just wordlessly squeezes your shoulder again. As you reach the end of the road that you live down, the heavens start to open. “Christ!” You yell in surprise, the freezing rain starting to pelt down. Grabbing hold of James arm, you peg it down the road. He laughs, but he follows you all the way to your building. You pull him into its entrance and laugh. “That doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon,” you think out loud, conscious of your heart hammering in your ribcage. You rub your chest with a grimace. James is watching you carefully, so you flash him a reassuring smile and jerk your head in the direction of the elevators. “Wanna head up to my place until the rain passes over? Then you don’t have to get drenched heading home.” He pauses for a moment, searching your face for any discomfort. Finding none he nods.

“If that’s all right with you.” You nod and head over to the lift, still rubbing your chest where your heart is thudding beneath. You hear footsteps indicating that James is following you. As you wait for the lift, a hand is placed on the small of your back. You look up at him and his eyes catch yours. He gives you a glorious smile and you swear your heart skips a beat or two. _God, he could literally kill me with his heart stopping smile._ The elevator dings and some of your neighbours walk out, raising their eyebrows at you when they see the man you’re with. You suppress a chuckle at their facial expressions, hoping that James didn’t notice them, and step into the lift.

“So let me warn you, my apartment isn’t the most stylish. It’s nothing fancy-” You halt at the beginning of your speech when James brushes some of your hair from your face and curls it behind your ear. His hand is so _warm_ and it makes you shiver. He takes your lack of speech as an opportunity to talk, his hand resting on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“It’s okay. I’m sure I’ve stayed in worse.” You give him a curious look before smiling fondly at him. When he retracts his hand, you elbow him playfully in the ribs.

“Yeah well, my apartment has the world's grumpiest cat; you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, pal.” He chuckles and the elevator dings. You both step out and you fumble in your pockets to find your key. As soon as you open the door, you’re ambushed by a ball of fur. Lucky for you, the cat does this often so you catch him in your arms and walk in without breaking step. There’s a click as James shuts the door behind him. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you announce as you walk into the kitchen and place the cat down on the floor. Jam purrs as you scratch behind his crooked ear. However, as soon as James walks in, the cat freezes and bolts under the table, hissing. You laugh and stand. “James,” you gesture from James to James, “meet James.” For some reason you find the situation hilarious and you start laughing. James doesn’t join in, but when you look up he’s grinning at you from ear to ear. You grab a mug from a cupboard. “Want something to drink? Oh! And feel free to sit as well.”

“Uh, yes please. Just cold water will do,” he says. You nod and pour some up for him. When you turn, you’re surprised to see James crouched down with his hand stuck out for the cat to smell. As the cat steps out into the light of the room, you see James’ eyes widen a little. The cat has two bottom teeth that stick out over his top lip and his right eye is stitched shut. His fur is incredibly soft, but it’s matted and patchy. When he walks around he also limps, as one of his legs once broke and healed wrong. Your favourite thing about him is his crooked ear, which sticks out constantly. You don’t know the story behind all of his injuries, but you’re grateful that the cat seems happier now that he’s with you. You break the silence.

“You can say it.” James looks up at you with a small, cute frown. “It's the most fuck ugly cat you've ever seen.” James bursts out laughing and you join in, finding his laughter immensely contagious. The cat hisses and backs back under the table. Still laughing, you place your drinks down at the table and pull a chair out, leaning down to pet the cat in apology.

“I don’t know,” James eventually says when his laughter has died down. He grins up at you. “I’d say the cat is quite a looker.” You bark another laugh at that and the cat meows at all of the annoyingly loud laughter before huffing and trotting off into a different room. You watch James take a seat and sigh.

“James and James. Ha, I still can’t get over that.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Y’know, I haven’t actually been called that in a long time.” You raise an eyebrow. “You’re the only person who calls me that, everyone else calls me Bucky.”

 _“Bucky?”_ You say incredulously. You quickly put your hands up in apology. “Not that that’s a bad name! I just haven’t heard of that name before.” He chuckles.

“It comes from my middle name, Buchanan.” You whistle in appreciation, taking a sip of your water.

“That’s a cool middle name to have.” You mull over his nickname in thought as you drink. “Bucky…” you test the word on your tongue. You nod as you think. “Comes with many different opportunities for nicknames.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Like Bucky Bear for example.” He snorts, rolling his eyes and you suddenly laugh. “Bucky Boo! Oh my God! That’s it! I’m calling you that from now on.” He groans and facepalms so dramatically that you know he doesn’t really mean it. You giggle at him. You share a look, laughter in his eyes and fondness in yours.

 _Dammit,_ you tell yourself. _I think I’m falling for this guy_.

* * *

“Keep running!”

“I- I can’t!” You’re afraid of your heart stopping. Running for longer probably wouldn’t make your heart go any faster, seeing as it’s currently thundering in your chest at a ridiculous speed. There’s a sudden explosion and you yelp. Bucky curls himself around you protectively and you cling to his shirt in panic. Smoke is filling the air along with the sound of screams.

“You need to run! Don’t worry about me!” When you stare at him, wide-eyed, he yells again. “Go!” Your heartbeat is beating fast in your chest and you’re more afraid of going into heart failure again than from dying in another terrorist attack on New York. Guns start firing nearby and Bucky leaps in your direction, grabbing your hand and dragging you away from the fight. Your legs struggle to keep up with him and you hold your breath, thinking about how you’re probably going to die. When he seems to think you’re a safe distance away, he stops. Almost immediately, you collapse. “Shit, are you okay? Are you hurt?” _Oh I’m right as rain, it’s just that I’m dying. Don’t worry about me._ You gasp and hyperventilate, but you wave him off and stumble to your feet.

“Fine,” you gasp out, rubbing your chest. He nods firmly.

“You need to get back to your house. It’ll be safer there. I’m going to go back and help people-”

“No!” You wheeze. “You can’t go back in there; there are guns and explosions! You’ll die! Leave it for the Avengers to sort out.” Bucky quickly kisses your forehead.

“Just go, don’t worry about me. I’ll come and find you afterwards.” Before you can say much else, he’s sprinting off. You feel lightheaded, dizzy, and incredibly sick. You do as he tells you and jog in the direction of your apartment. A few steps into your quest, people thunder past you in panic and you stumble against a wall, falling to the ground. Your hands manage to soften the blow a bit, but it still hurts when you smack into the concrete. You crawl for a few moments before just giving up and laying there, curled up on the floor. Some people ask if you need help and you tell them you’ll be fine. When guns fire, they run away anyway. Desperately, you try to calm down your breathing by taking deeper, slower breaths. The screaming and loud banging nearby really, really don’t help to calm you down, but nevertheless you try, covering your ears over with your hands to help block out the noise.

It takes time. However, it’s worth just laying there trying to calm yourself because you feel so relieved that you no longer feel like you’re dying. Some people rush by you and none of them stop to help. You manage to push yourself up to stand with the walls support. You feel your blood pressure plummet as you stand, but you manage to steady yourself and walk back to 9th Avenue. As soon as you’re back at your apartment, the first thing you do is go straight to your bed and collapse on top of it. Your cat jumps up onto the bed and he protests as you wrap him up in your arms and bury your teary face in his fur.

_God, I hope Bucky is still alive. I wish I wasn’t so fucking useless! If I wasn’t ill I could have helped him and made sure he was okay. Fuck, I just hope he’s still alive and hasn’t died out there._


End file.
